


What You Are And What You’ll Never Be

by chunni



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Anakin Skywalker Has Issues, Dirty Talk, Emotional Hurt, Explicit Sexual Content, Heavy Angst, Humiliation, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Post-Duel on Mustafar (Star Wars), Rough Kissing, Suitless Darth Vader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:02:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28818951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chunni/pseuds/chunni
Summary: Obi-Wan thinks death awaits him. It’s not.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Darth Vader
Comments: 16
Kudos: 211





	What You Are And What You’ll Never Be

**Author's Note:**

> So... this is something I wrote :') 
> 
> I've been heaving headaches for a few weeks and I thought what better way is there to keep my mind from my own suffering than to make my favourite characters suffer as well? In this case, Obi-Wan. Look at the tags and you know what to expect [if you don't know what the tags and/or warnings mean, click on the small arrow in the corner of your laptop/computer/whatever]. I even saved the file under the title 'that one Vaderwan fic everyone writes', so there's that.
> 
> To spell it out for you: there's explicit, emotional rape, so if that triggers you, please don't read this story. I promise I will write something nicer for this pairing soon! [I actually am writing a longer obikin fanfic atm, though I need some time to finish it.]
> 
> Have a great day everyone! :)
> 
> [Also: I am no native speaker. If you find any errors/weird sentences, do tell me, so I can improve my writing.]

**What You Are And What You’ll Never Be**

~

Obi-Wan was captured. Or was he? He hadn’t tried run, not really at least. He had found it hard to think of something worth running away for. _Maybe it’s meant to be_ , he had thought. He had been tired. Those four or five months since the battle of Mustafar – and how much he hated to revisit those memories – had felt like years. Sometimes he thought he should have been twice his age by now. First Qui-Gon Jinn’s death, now... this. Those scars didn’t fade.

Maybe he had wanted to be captured.

Anakin, _no_ , Darth Vader would kill him, that much was certain. Obi-Wan still didn’t know how he had been able to escape from Mustafar with a dying Padmé in his arms and the wish to preserve what was left of his once beloved Padawan, Jedi-Knight, pilot, and best friend. His children were safe, at least that one thing he had done right. Now, though, what was left for him? How could he not welcome death? It was only fitting Vader would wield the executioner’s axe.

They had shackled him. It was a special kind of cuffs, made for Jedi, made to cut off the Force, and he thought that was how blind people must see the world. The loss was painful but he found comfort in the thought that it would soon be over.

He was in a small room, the walls white and naked, the only furniture a large bed and a few lamps on the ceiling, a bathroom to the right. It reminded him of a guest room even though he was hardly a guest here. In hindsight, this observation alone should have made him think. As it was, he was calm, barely allowing himself to think of anything else than his near end. Hopefully, it would be quick. That much he deserved, didn’t he?

Obi-Wan was meditating with closed eyes, bound hands folded in his lap, legs crossed, when a high ping signalled the opening of the door. His eyes remained closed while he listened to the distinct sound of heavy boots walking across the floor, then pausing. Silence. Another ping when the door closed again. Another deep breath.

“Obi-Wan.”

 _Obi-Wan_ , his past whispered, his best friend yelled with a smile. There was no smile in the syllables now. Maybe a smirk. No happiness, though. Just coldness.

Bracing himself, Obi-Wan opened his eyes. He knew what to expect and yet it still was like a punch in the stomach. He felt the heat of Mustafar against his back once more, heard the hissing sound of lightsabers cutting through the air.

The man before him looked like Anakin. He had the same dark curls framing his face, the same handsome features, the same strong jawline, the same scar, and the same mischievous glint in his eyes. Now, they were yellow, though, like acid, and this gaze was burning just as such. His lips curled into a smile that didn’t want to reach his eyes. When he tilted his head, leaning forward slightly, his black cloak and dark clothes followed his movement.

“You disappoint me, old Master. I was looking for you all around the galaxy and when I finally find you, you hardly put up any fight.”

Obi-Wan gave him a long look. He didn’t want to see what the dark side had done to him and yet he couldn’t avert his gaze. He sighed, shaking off unwelcome feelings and memories.

“I can’t remember training you,” he said, dauntlessly meeting Vader’s gaze. “I’m afraid the one I called my Padawan is dead.”

“Don’t be like that, Obi-Wan.” Vader rolled his eyes. “You should be proud. You taught me well.”

 _Too well_ , Obi-Wan thought, clenching his teeth. _And yet not well enough. I have failed you. I have failed Master Qui-Gon._

He swallowed hard, narrowing his eyes. “I see no need to talk. As a matter of fact, this conversation’s boring me already... why don’t you finish what you begun on Mustafar and kill me?”

When Vader’s grin widened, it looked more like a wolf’s smile before it tore you apart. Obi-Wan felt a shiver run down his back. He didn’t like it at all. That was the first time he felt as if running away might have been the better option after all.

“Who said anything about killing you?”

Obi-Wan tried not to show his surprise, though it was hard without the Force’s calming presence.

“I have to admit, I did want to kill you... at first. You’re the great General Kenobi, the impeccable Jedi Master, the Jedi’s last hope...” Vader’s face twisted into something darker, a shadow flickering through his eyes. He lowered his voice. “Sometimes I feel like you’re the last thing holding me back... that without you I could be free. I know I should kill you. After all, you’re the reason...” He was growling now. “She’s dead...”

Obi-Wan’s heart ached at the mention of Padmé. Such a beautiful light extinguished from one day to the other. She hadn’t deserved any of this. Her he had failed maybe most of all.

“Still, I won’t kill you,” Vader declared, pulling him out of his thoughts. “I’ve realised you might be more useful alive after all. Also, I can hardly kill you when that’s exactly what you want me to do. I can’t be the bad guy when I’m helping you now, can I? And I know you just love to see me as such.”

Obi-Wan forced himself to keep a straight face even though it was getting harder not to give in to the irritation building up inside him. If there was one thing he couldn’t lose, then it was his calm. _There is no emotion, there is peace_ , he reminded himself, taking a deep breath.

„I don’t see you as anything,” he murmured. „I know what you did, what you’re still doing… that’s enough.”

Vader cocked a brow, waiting for more. When the silence stretched on, he shrugged.

„Well, enough of that. Get up, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan wondered if disobeying that order would be enough to get him killed. Probably not. He let out a low sigh and slid to the other side of the bed, rising, faltering a bit because of the shackles. He didn’t like how Vader was looking at him. There was a new glint in his eyes, or maybe that glint’s fire had always been there and was just burning more intensely now. It seemed to reach into him, seemed to open up his mind, searching to ravage what was inside. If he had had contact to the Force, he would have set up mental shields to protect himself.

Vader beckoned to him to come closer and Obi-Wan made a few hesitant steps in his direction, stopping about a metre before him. He knew Vader would have just come to him otherwise. Now he could at least pretend to have control over the situation left.

Vader let his eyes trail over him for just a moment too long. He smiled. “Undress.”

Obi-Wan stiffened.

“I’m afraid that’s quite impossible,” he said as nonchalantly as possible, nodding to his bound hands. “I’m not that flexible anymore.”

Vader shot him a glare, though it seemed even he couldn’t argue solid facts because he stayed silent, his jaw working as if he were biting back words. Obi-Wan’s satisfaction about his silence didn’t last long, though.

There was a whooshing sound and a red light and then a lightsaber cut right through the chain connecting the handcuffs, leaving him free to move and yet still bound by the loss of the Force. Obi-Wan flinched when the glowing blade all but grazed his tunic. He turned his hands, observing the damage, a bad feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. The cuffs’ remnants were clattering quietly.

“Is there another problem, Obi-Wan?” Vader mocked. “Did you forget my order already? Let me refresh your memory. Undress.”

Obi-Wan snorted weakly. “You don’t really want to see me naked, trust me. I’ve never been in worse shape. Being on the run does that to you.”

He didn’t allow himself to look up, maybe because he didn’t want to know what he might find in that all too familiar face. Still, he couldn’t keep himself from listening.

“I think it’s up to me to decide what I want and do not want to see.” Vader let out a low chuckle. “Do you want me to help you?”

“No.” Obi-Wan took a deep breath. It wasn’t that big of a deal, was it? Vader only wanted to humiliate him. Struggling would only make it worse. Maybe if he didn’t react to those provocations, Vader would soon be bored of him and would decide to kill him after all. Back then, in another life, they had seen each other naked more often than he could count and this situation shouldn’t have been any different. It wasn’t.

He took off his clothes with almost clinical precision, quickly but not hurriedly, forcing himself to be as neutral about the act as possible. The room was quite cold, he noticed, goosebumps appearing on his skin as soon as the cool air grazed it. He had to withstand the urge to cross his arms when he looked up after he was done. His clothes were piled up somewhere next to him.

“Good,” Vader breathed. If possible, his gaze had become even more burning. How strange that the room seemed to be both too hot and too cold, Obi-Wan thought, clenching his hands because he didn’t quite know what to do with them. His death wouldn’t be swift, it seemed.

He wanted to turn his head away, unable to bear the silent stare, but Vader’s hand darted forward just as he did so. It grabbed his chin, making his teeth grind uncomfortably, forcing him to keep looking into those acid eyes. Vader leaned forward and for a horrible moment Obi-Wan thought he might kiss him, a thought like a lighting, just as sudden, just as shattering. It didn’t happen. There was warm breath against his lips, then nothing, the fingers leaving his chin. His heart was racing in his chest nevertheless.

“You know…,” Vader mumbled, voice oddly hoarse, quiet. “I had a thought… well, it really is a logical conclusion. She wouldn’t have minded, I’m sure. She always liked you… now that she’s gone, well…”

He didn’t finish the sentence and Obi-Wan didn’t know if he should be relieved or terrified. He didn’t want to make sense of those words but he felt like it might be better to be prepared. However, nothing could have prepared him for what happened next.

Vader reached out and buried his cybernetic hand in his hair, the grip strong enough to make pain flare up along the crown of his head. When he pulled him forward, Obi-Wan had no choice but to follow the movement and fell to his knees, gasping, grimacing. He couldn’t place his hands on the floor to support himself, not with Vader unwilling to loosen his grip, and was forced to throw his head back, to look up at the man before him like a servant at his master.

Obi-Wan pressed his lips into a tight line. No doubt that had been Vader’s intention. “Resorting to violence to superficially tower over me doesn’t make you superior.”

Vader’s grip tightened and Obi-Wan winced when a few strands of hair were torn from his skin.

“You’re going to regret those words,” Vader hissed. His gaze was murderous. “I might not have been able to defeat you on Mustafar but you still lost. You’re alone, Obi-Wan. I’m the only one left of the people you’ve known… you really shouldn’t talk to me like that. I can make this much, much less pleasant for you.”

He let go of Obi-Wan’s hair but Obi-Wan couldn’t be happy about it. The ordeal had left a throbbing ache beneath his skin, though even worse was not knowing what Vader was talking about. Soon he would wish back this confusion, though.

“Obi-Wan…,” Vader began, his voice too soft, too sweet, the quiet before the storm. A warning. Obi-Wan didn’t need the Force to tell him that. “You’ve no idea why you’re here, have you?”

Obi-Wan didn’t answer. He couldn’t give him that satisfaction. He kept looking at the floor, his brows furrowed.

“Let me show you.”

 _Don’t_ , Obi-Wan thought. He didn’t hinder Vader from taking his hand, though, not when the touch was almost gentle, so different from before. Realisation came like a bucket of icy water when Vader placed the hand on his crotch and by then it was too late to pull back because Vader covered it with his own, pressing it against his body, against…

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened and his mouth went dry. He didn’t dare to look up, didn’t dare to move, and yet he couldn’t stop his thoughts from spinning in his mind. As a Jedi he had never allowed himself to form romantic relationships but he was still a man. He recognised an erection when he felt one. Heat rushed to his cheeks.

“This… is extremely distasteful,” he rasped, unable to keep his repulsion from seeping into his voice. “I understand you want to humiliate me but this goes too far. Don’t you have any shame?”

Vader’s laugh was that of a man who had heard a very good joke. Obi-Wan didn’t quite feel like joining him, especially not when the hand above his own grabbed his fingers and was rubbing them against the steadily growing bulge. His body was tingling uncomfortably.

“I knew you’d say that,” Vader said. “You’d never give in to earthly pleasures, you’re better than that, aren’t you? Well, I’m not.”

Obi-Wan managed to free his hand with a jolt. An icy shiver ran down his back.

“Stop this charade,” he ground out, suddenly all too aware of his nakedness. “You can’t be serious about this. You’ve never… you don’t want me. You just want the feeling of power that comes with it. What… what about Padmé?”

“You know she’s dead. It’s only fitting you take her place, don’t you think?” Vader gave him a horrible grin, using Obi-Wan’s shock to pat his head, brushing a few loose strands of hair out of his face. “Besides, it’s not like I never thought about doing this with you…”

When Obi-Wan was able to breathe again, when he wanted to back away, he noticed he couldn’t move. He was frozen, not because of an unwelcome feeling, no. The reason was the Force paralysing him, keeping him on his knees, the Force and Vader’s hold over it. _I should have run_ , he thought before he could hold himself back, knowing fully well it was too late for such regrets.

He averted his gaze when he noticed Vader stepping out of his boots and pressed his eyes shut when that wasn’t enough. As much as Vader must have enjoyed watching him strip, he hardly felt the same way. A sense of helplessness ran through him, drenching him like rain, and it took a lot of effort to shake it off.

“You don’t have to do this,” he muttered, feeling as if there must be something he could say, something to change his mind, something to make him see reason. If there was, he couldn’t find it.

“I know,” Vader said, his smirk audible in his voice. “I want to. Now, open your mouth.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes fluttered open, though he kept them directed at the floor, white and polished and so horribly perfect. Not a single scratch or speck of dirt. What should he do? He couldn’t do what Vader wanted him to do.

“What if I don’t do it?” he whispered and that question was a kind of defeat in itself. It certainly felt like it. There were fingers at his cheek, not grabbing but caressing the skin with gentle circles. It could have been soothing. Of course, then and there, it wasn’t further from that.

“Hm… I won’t kill you, if that’s what you’re hoping. I could kill someone else, of course. Maybe a few civilians. Maybe a family. Maybe there’s someone you care for left after all and I can find them… I could force you, that would be the easiest way.”

 _How is this any different from forcing me?_ Obi-Wan wanted to say but he bit back the words, swallowing hard. This was probably even worse than having the Force making him do it, because that way he wouldn’t have to blame himself. 

“You won’t like it,” he said, snorting weakly, even though he knew it wouldn’t change anything, least of all Vader’s mind. He had always been too stubborn for his own good. “I… I’ve never… done this before…”

“I don’t care… it’s you.”

That was when Obi-Wan knew he wouldn’t get out of this, not in the near future, maybe never. The weight of the situation was pressing onto his shoulders, his stomach twisting. He only remembered to breathe when his view got blurry. He let out a strained sigh, forced every single thought out of his mind, and turned to face the unavoidable.

He didn’t look up to Vader even though he could feel his gaze in the tingling of his neck and he felt as if there were ants crawling all over his body. He hadn’t been lying. The only dick he had ever touched was his own and he didn’t really have any wish to change that. Still, he knew the motions, theoretically at least. Maybe if he focused on them, he would be able to forget who he was trying to get off.

He hesitantly leaned forward, gathering saliva in his mouth, and let his still closed lips brush against the cock’s head. It was soft, clean, with only a distant scent of salt and sweat to it. Maybe he had been showering before this meeting, Obi-Wan thought and he didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry.

Vader let out a soft gasp when he finally opened his mouth to take him in and there was a hand in his hair again, pressing him closer. He could barely keep himself from gagging. He had to reach for Vader’s legs not to lose his balance but his knees were still scraping over the floor. He couldn’t breathe, gasped around the cock in his throat and somehow managed to get some oxygen.

“Don’t use your teeth,” Vader said breathlessly, jerking against him. “Use your lips… your tongue…”

 _I’m not even doing anything!_ Obi-Wan wanted to snap, a spark of anger running through him. Still, he didn’t want to go through this any longer than necessary, so he pursed his lips and let his tongue dart forward, licking, nudging gently, trying to focus on the motions, trying not to think. Vader moaned, the sound low and vibrating, and it made a shiver run down his spine.

“You should see yourself,” Vader purred and Obi-Wan wished he would just shut up, would at least give him the possibility to pretend this wasn’t what it was. There was a hand at his forehead, knuckles brushing against his skin, fingers combing through his hair. He felt both too hot and too cold. “You’re beautiful like this. Kneeling before me, sucking me off like some whore from the Uscru District… not a sight I thought I’d ever see. Better than I imagined too. To think you’ve never done this before… that I’m the one…”

A sound between groan and laugh. “Let’s just say there’re a lot of people envying me right now. You might not be aware of it but you broke a lot of hearts... you’ve always had that effect on people, so charming, so funny, so smart, so heroic… I’ve seen their stares, I’ve heard the rumours… well, not anymore.”

Vader thrust more deeply, grunts and moans falling from his lips, and the pressure was almost too much to bear. Tears sprang to his eyes, his jaw was hurting, and Obi-Wan wanted nothing more than to bite down. He couldn’t do it, though, not with that warning in the back of his head. Nobody should be hurt because of him anymore.

“They’re all gone…” Another deep thrust. “And you’re mine, aren’t you? Obi-Wan? You hardly fought against your capture… maybe a part of you wanted this to happen as much as I do.”

Obi-Wan winced. _How dare you…?!_

“No,” he spat out as best as he could, unable to stay silent, the word muffled and hoarse, almost incomprehensible. Spittle dripped from his lips and ran down his chin, leaving a wet, itchy trail. Vader laughed.

“Still a Jedi through and through, huh?”

Without any warning, he pulled out, stepping backward. Momentum and the lack of support made Obi-wan fall forward, his hands awkwardly darting through the air until they found the floor. Panting, lips swollen and wet, he allowed himself a moment to gather himself. He was grateful for his slightly longer hair covering his face because it allowed him to stop putting up an act and be weak, if only for a moment. He licked his lips and tasted him, could still feel him somehow. He frowned as soon as his mind caught up with what had happened.

“You… didn’t…” He couldn’t bring himself to continue that sentence. His voice didn’t sound like himself. Too hoarse. Too shaky. Too quiet.

Fortunately – or unfortunately -, Vader knew all too well what he had wanted to say. He let out a small chuckle. “Finish, I know,” he said. “You’re clever. I’m sure you can figure out why.”

 _I’m not finished with you_ , he could have said just as well and the fact made something inside Obi-Wan squirm. This was worse than torture. This was worse than death. He didn’t want his memories to be tainted with what _he_ had become. He didn’t want past and present to meet and yet every word, every action brought those sides closer together. He feared soon there wouldn’t be a way to differentiate them anymore.

He wondered if he had ever really known _him_. It was worse than seeing him dying because that would have given him closure. Now it was just losing hope over and over again. It was like diving into the raging sea to save a drowning man only to be pulled to the bottom of the ocean by him.

“Get on the bed, Obi-Wan,” Vader said, irritation tainting his voice. Maybe he was angry because of the lack of attention from him? If yes, then good. Let him be angry. Let him be evil. That was how it should be. That way Obi-Wan might be able to pretend he wasn’t… wasn’t…

He clenched his hands, eyes flickering to Vader’s clothes, not neatly piled up but thrown all over the place. His lightsaber must be there too, somewhere. Maybe if he got it… maybe…

He let out a small groan, shaking his head with the tiniest motion. There was no way Vader hadn’t thought about that. Without the Force, there was no way he could fight him. It was hopeless.

“I don’t want to repeat myself,” Vader growled coldly. “I could take you on the floor just as well but it wouldn’t be nearly as comfortable.”

Obi-Wan grimaced even though those words only confirmed what he had already thought – feared – would happen. When he pushed himself off the floor, legs shaky from disuse, a dull pain in the joints of his knees, it was one of the hardest things he had ever done. Not as hard as meeting Vader’s gaze, though.

He wiped the sweat and saliva from his chin and beard with the back of his hand, blazing yellow eyes following his every movement. No matter how hard he fought them, the memories of better times kept intruding his mind and a pang of sadness made his heart clench. There was too much that was familiar about him, still. There was too much of himself that yearned for what they had had, back then, before everything had been plunged into ruin.

“Do you really hate me that much?” he mumbled.

Something flashed through Vader’s face, wiped the leering grin from his lips and let a new tension creep into his expression. He tilted his head and crossed the distance between them until Obi-Wan thought he could feel his breath on his cheeks.

“I hate you. I want to hurt you,” Vader said slowly, as if he were choosing each word with most care. “I also love you. I desire you. You’re part of my life… I have to accept that. You’re part of me. I can’t kill you but I can’t let you hold me back either. I need you and this… this the only way I can fit you into my life… into this world. My Master would kill you… I can protect you.”

He reached out for him but Obi-Wan flinched, stepping backward before this hand could cup his cheek in an oh so loving manner.

“Maybe I prefer death to your protection,” he muttered. Vader’s expression darkened, a spark running through his gaze.

“I’m afraid you don’t get a say in this, old Master,” he hissed. “I refuse to watch you die… and I will get want I want.”

Something inside Obi-wan tore. Maybe it was the prospect of his future, maybe it was the weight of what had already happened, maybe it was both. Whatever it was, it was enough to make him feel as if the floor were dissolving beneath his feet, as if he were falling without anything to hold onto. It made him speak before his mind could stop his mouth, his voice shaking with barely suppressed emotions.

“Don’t do this, Anakin.” The once so familiar name seemed so strange, so wrong, made his tongue tingle like poison, and yet a part of him was overjoyed to say it again. “Please. I don’t want to… to do this… n-not like this. You know that. Let me go, kill me, torture me, I don’t care… just d-don’t… don’t do this.”

Vader – Anakin – froze at the mention of his old name. He let out a small chuckle but it wasn’t happy, more a shadow of what it could be, fake. Sad. He averted his gaze, the broken remnants of a grin on his lips.

“You can call me Anakin as much as you like, it doesn’t change anything,” he said. “There isn’t a… a better me you can appeal to, there’s only me. I’ve never had a chance… it was always meant to be this way. You… you better get used to it.”

He leaned forward and it was more an assault than a kiss, really. There was no softness, no gentleness, only enough pressure to make his teeth clash as hands grasped the sides of his head, thumbs digging into the soft skin just above his cheekbones. Somehow it wasn’t Vader anymore but Anakin, Anakin who was sucking at his lips, Anakin who was biting them almost hard enough to draw blood, Anakin who all but threw himself against him, his still half-erect cock pressing against his stomach.

Obi-Wan tried to shake his head, tried to free himself, but his mind couldn’t, didn’t want to follow. A wave of dizziness swept through him. He fell when Anakin gave him a push and somehow he was still falling even after his back had met the mattress. Anakin climbed on top of him, straddling his hips, rocking against him, and Obi-Wan couldn’t find the strength to fight. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to find peace, trying to calm down, and failing. He wanted to cry, if not for himself, then for Anakin and how he could think like that, how his morals could be that twisted.

 _Oh, what are you doing, Anakin?_ he thought. _Don’t you see how wrong this is?_

“Look at me, Obi-Wan,” Anakin murmured in between kisses, breath hot against his lips. A hand wandered to his chest, caressing the skin with gentle movements. When Obi-Wan forced himself to open his eyes, the lamp’s light seemed enough to blind him, though it was better than meeting Anakin’s gaze. Anakin patted his cheek. He lowered his voice to a husky whisper. “You should let go of the past. There’s no Jedi Order anymore. You’re allowed to enjoy this… I can help you with that.”

With that, his left hand curled around Obi-Wan’s limp cock and began to stroke. A shiver ran down his back, both icy and hot, and his eyes widened. He was speechless, frozen, only managed to move when he felt another spark below the area of his stomach, when he could feel himself getting aroused despite himself. He bucked, clenched fist aiming straight for Anakin’s face.

Anakin let go of him immediately, though sadly he was also quick enough to block the punch with his cybernetic arm, cold fingers catching Obi-Wan’s wrist. It was no surprise, even less with the Force on his side, and yet it still stung not to be able to land even a single blow. Nevertheless, it had been worth a try.

“Don’t,” Obi-Wan ground out. “If you’ve any respect left for me… don’t do that.”

Anakin looked down at him, narrowed eyes wandering up and down his face as if looking for something, and he let go of his wrist.

“Your loss,” he muttered, following the line of his jaw with a cybernetic finger. He tilted his chin and placed a short kiss on his lips, a kiss like a promise. “I’ll wait for you to change your mind.”

“I won’t change my mind about this.”

Anakin raised a brow, giving him a lop-sided grin. “You’ll have enough time to think about it. There’s always another day.”

Obi-Wan didn’t have the strength to keep arguing, so he pressed his lips together and tried to free his mind of thoughts, tried to ignore the touches and caresses and kisses.

It was hard. He couldn’t remember when there had last been that many feelings raging through him. He wanted to hate, he wanted to cry, he wanted to be angry, he wanted to despair, but he still was a Jedi and, no matter what Anakin was saying, he would always be one. He knew giving in to this storm wouldn’t help him, not now, not in the long run. Being a Jedi was the only thing he could hold onto. It was the only part of him that wasn’t lying shattered on the ground by now.

Nevertheless, when Anakin fetched a bottle of lube from a drawer beneath the bed, he couldn’t help but tense up, warily eyeing him as he squeezed a few drops onto his hand. His heart sped up against his will. It was ridiculous, really. He shouldn’t be scared of something as simple as, well, intercourse. There were so many beings in the galaxy doing it every day and they didn’t seem to be bothered by it. It would hurt, surely, that much he knew, but it would hardly be as painful as a few broken rips or a bullet to the leg. He had survived worse. He could do this.

Nevertheless, there was still a part of him that wanted to throw himself at Anakin’s feet and beg him not to overstep this last border that seemed to be the most important of them all. He couldn’t help but feel as if there would be no going back afterwards and maybe that was what he was most scared of.

Anakin’s breath came in low pants as he lubed up his cock and Obi-Wan couldn’t help but watch, to equal parts fascinated and horrified, maybe hoping it would be easier to deal with when he knew what to expect. At the same time, he knew nothing could prepare him for what was to come. It was like staring down a cliff and contemplating to jump.

Anakin looked at him out of heavy-lidded eyes, gaze clouded by desire, and it made his breath hitch. There was so much darkness swirling inside it and yet there was something about it that pulled him in, that didn’t want to let him go. Anakin wasn’t just doing this to hurt or overpower him, he really did want him. Obi-Wan didn’t know if he should feel better or worse because of it.

As if reading his thoughts, Anakin gave him a knowing grin, just barely licking his lips, and somehow his body responded by sending a wave of heat to his stomach. Obi-Wan raised an arm reflexively, maybe to shield his gaze, to bury his face in its crook, to reject what was happening as physically as possible.

Anakin caught his hand with the ease of a Jedi and placed it against his cock, twitching and wet from the lube, giving it a few strokes. Obi-Wan let him do it but didn’t move his hand, refusing to help him get more out of this than necessary, and soon Anakin gave a frustrated groan and let go of him.

Obi-Wan wiped his hand on the blanket, though it still felt sticky long afterwards, the skin itching. Even worse was the tingling sensation spreading through his body, unwelcome and yet not entirely unpleasant. He swallowed hard. He was falling, still, but how long until the inevitable impact?

Anakin climbed from his stomach and moved backward until he was able to grasp his knees and spread his legs. Obi-Wan’s first instinct was to fight against the movement until he reminded himself it didn’t really matter, that he wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible, and he took a shaky breath, forcing himself to relax.

He inhaled sharply when Anakin placed a kiss just below his navel, when there was hot breath against his cock, close enough to make him think Anakin might just have forgotten his own words. A thought ran through his mind, quickly shoved away and yet horribly real, a thought wondering what it would be like to have Anakin stroke him to completion. Would it really be that bad to give in to him?

He was glad when Anakin’s hand kneading his bottom pulled him out of his mind and even more when he felt a finger entering him because it was uncomfortable, unfamiliar, and everything he needed to tell himself he wouldn’t be getting any kind of enjoyment out of this. It was easier that way.

“How does it feel?” Anakin asked, his voice low from arousal, and Obi-Wan clenched his teeth, pretending he hadn’t heard anything. Pretending he wasn’t lying in this bed, about to be fucked by his former Padawan, but maybe floating in a lake, water and piece engulfing him. Pretending everything was all right. “You’ve never had sex, have you? I thought maybe Sati-“

“No,” Obi-Wan snapped, the reaction as quickly as pulling away a burned hand, his eyes wide. Maybe he had been wrong. Maybe Anakin did just want to torture him after all. _Don’t you dare say her name,_ he thought, jaw clenched, struggling not to feel even more miserable. _Don’t you dare pull her into this._

Anakin rolled his eyes, though the corners of his mouth rose into a smirk.

“So I’m your first?” An amused spark ran through his gaze. “Don’t you think that’s kind of poetic, old Master?”

Obi-Wan didn’t answer, only glared at the ceiling. Maybe Anakin hadn’t expected an answer, or maybe he was just done with talking anyway, because he went silent. Shortly afterwards Obi-Wan knew why.

Anakin pulled his hand away. Obi-Wan hardly had a second to brace himself before Anakin positioned himself before him and pushed into him. The pressure was enough to make him gasp, to make him tense up even though he knew better, and hearing Anakin moan only made it that much worse. He clenched his hand and pressed his head into the mattress beneath him as if trying to melt into it. It didn’t work. He couldn’t escape this room and he could escape his own body even less.

He bit the inside of his cheek and tasted iron when Anakin buried himself even more deeply inside him, feeling as if he must burst, wondering how anyone could enjoy this. He refused to show any kind of reaction even though he knew his face must be white by now, pearls of sweat rolling down his temples. His eyes fluttered close but he could still hear Anakin’s laboured breathing, his own barely suppressed gasps.

Anakin didn’t move for a moment, a hand slung around his leg, fingers digging into his flesh in a way that might have been painful any other time.

“I’ve waited so long to do this…” A short, breathless laugh. “You can scream my name if you want to.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t react to the comment when Anakin began to move, slowly pushing in and out of him, and he couldn’t help but groan with every movement, his body shaking. It was enough to erase every thought of his mind and he was clutching the blankets hard enough to tear the fabric apart. Anakin picked up his pace after a few moments, making his body rock against the mattress, and it was a bit like sailing into a storm, waves flooding the boat, crashing over him, and threatening to pull him into the open sea. He couldn’t think. He could only gasp for air and trying to withstand.

Every now and then Anakin touched something inside him in a certain way that made heat surge through him, that sent tingling shivers of arousal over his skin, that almost made him want to lean into the touch, only for unbearable pressure to take over again, for dull pain to flare up. He thought he might just lose his mind. Incoherent thoughts ran through him, some he wouldn’t even remember later, some he would because they were just so prominent. Anakin’s name was one of them. He might not have screamed the name but it was the only constant on his mind, a maddening mantra.

It seemed he wasn’t alone with that. Whenever he managed to listen, willingly or not, Anakin was moaning or whispering something under his breath. More often than not it was his name, sometimes accompanied by quickly forgotten words of affection. He tried not to listen to those.

After what felt like both a second and an eternity, Anakin’s rhythm became less steady and more chaotic, the comprehensible words less frequent and the moans louder, and he came with a shudder. There was sticky heat inside him and drops of semen ran down his bottom to meet the bed’s blankets. A detached part of Obi-Wan wondered who might be responsible to clean up, certainly not Anakin, and he had to fight down the odd urge to laugh. He didn’t quite know how to feel. He felt lost. Shouldn’t he cry? Why wasn’t he crying?

He didn’t want to move but Anakin did, pulling out of him with a sigh, and then there was a hand running over his chest, drawing lazy circles, and he tensed up all over again. It was only then that he opened his eyes, squinting into the lamp light. He refused to look at Anakin.

With more energy than he had thought possible, he slapped his arm away and sat up, sliding to the other end of the bed, fingers digging into the blankets as if trying to search something to hold onto. He felt oddly breathless, dizzy. His vision grew blurry.

“Obi-Wan?” Anakin asked in a soft, confused voice and he sounded so much like his former Padawan, Obi-Wan wanted to scream. He knew he would, if he only opened his mouth, scream until he would lose his voice, until he might have forgotten why he had been screaming in the first place. He only allowed himself to speak when he knew it wouldn’t shake.

“Are you happy now?”

Anakin didn’t answer.

Obi-Wan let the breath out of his lungs, tension and strength trickling away, leaving only exhaustion like weights of lead clinging to his body. He smiled grimly. He hadn’t expected an answer to that question, not from Anakin, not from Darth Vader. It really shouldn’t have come as a surprise.

When he lifted a trembling hand to rub his face, to shield his eyes maybe, there were cold, wet trails on his cheeks. How strange. He hadn’t even noticed when he had started to cry.

~


End file.
